Our trip to Chile - some of the people

I've blogged a few experiences on the walking blog.

One of the many aspects I enjoyed about our trip was the people we met, and talked to in Spanish or English.

Firstly, on the plane a very pleasant couple who I spoke to as we were nearing Santiago. I wanted to know when we would see the Andes - we didn't want to be on the wrong side of the plane.  They found this amusing - in any case the plane will turn so that you're on the best side, they told me. Quite right too, and, you know what, the Andes are pretty well visible from almost everywhere in Chile . . . but we did get a great view of the dawn light on the mountains.

In the lift from the appartment in Santiago we met a New Zealander. He was certainly in his sixties, and travelling round parts of South America on his own, hiring motorbikes. He'd  spent some time in the deserts of Bolivia and Peru, and was about to head towards Valparaiso when we spoke to him.

On the second or third day we were there we were walking through the Parque Forestal, a lovely avenue of trees with play areas and walkways, which goes through the town parallel to the River Mapocho. The river itself is not very attractive, enclosed by concrete as it rushes its way through the city. Five young women stopped us, and asked if they might interview us, about ourselves, our impressions of Chile and Santiago, and also about involvement in the community and leadership. Most of this I managed in Spanish. For once, I asked to take a photograph of them as a souvenir.  I tried to keep up the habit!

The next long chat was with the lady in the Café del Pintor in Valparaíso, where we ate twice during the four days we were there. The food was delicious, and reasonably priced, and the restaurant was not busy at the time we were there. She took a photo of us and was happy to chat about the food, Chile in general, and what to see in Valparaiso, as well as being interested in what we were doing, where we were going and so on. 

At the end of our stay in Valparaiso we caught the early morning bus back to Santiago, and then a plane to Calama, a mining city in the Atacama desert. From there we travelled by car to Coyo, a small settlement near San Pedro de Atacama. A harsh, dry climate, with hot days and cold nights. We stayed in a house made of adobe, but tiled and provided with all mod cons, even if they didn't always work, or were subject to power cuts. The internet stayed on, and was excellent at all times!

Jany and husband, and their friendly dog

The family who looked after the house in the owner's absence were local people, living in a house without electricity, as we discovered when we phoned them to ask if theirs was on. They must have thought we were real first world wimps. We eventually had a long conversation with Jany on the day we were leaving. She was very knowledgeable about the history of the area, and the animals and plants and their uses. Her daughter would like to study art, but can't afford the fees.

In the Valle de la Luna we met a man from Leeds - he'd been to Bolivia and Peru as well, and had hired a bike to explore the valley. We saw him again as we scrambled up a rather uneven hillside to catch a good view of the local volcano - Licancabur.

There's no photo of him, but he did take one of us.
  

Later on that day, on top of the Duna Mayor, a lively Chilean family from Santiago were taking selfies, so I offered to take a photo of them. They proved to be very friendly - the father spoke good English too. The children were having fun taking silly videos of their dad. We all stayed on the Dune to watch the spectacular sunset colours.

We had to return the car to the airport in Calama, and ended up in the middle of Calama, unable to find any roadsigns to it. The first guy we asked seemed to find it incredible and actually quite funny, but was not a lot of use! But we did ask a woman, who was picking her daughter up from school. She was very helpful, and even drew a map for us.

We arrived in plenty of time to return the vehicle and catch our flight! 

A chance meeting in a restaurant in La Serena with two young women enlivened our evening. One of them spoke good English and said she would love to be an English teacher, but can't afford the fees. 

Finally, in Vicuña, a small town in the Elqui valley we stayed at the Solar de los Madariaga, a nineteenth century house built by the wealthy great grand-father of the present owner, Mitzi Sylvia Diaz Cortes. Harry gave the Mitzi and her husband Alberto a watercolour sketch of their garden before we left.

There were many more - almost everyone we spoke to, asking the way, or for some kind of information was friendly, patient and helpful.    In spite of the warnings about looking like tourists, not carrying valuables around, especially in a backpack, and not venturing into certain areas - we had no bad experiences. We did manage to lose three hats between us, and on one occasion I thought I'd lost my purse, but it was back at base.

A fabulous month

Fabulous - not in the sense that it was nothing but a story, a dream . . . but we both thoroughly enjoyed discovering something of South America, and Chile in particular. in spite of its troubled past, the people are friendly and helpful, the scenery is spectacular, and the view of the night sky and the Milky Way in the Atacama is out of this world!  Plus i had lots of chance to practise my Spanish.

We returned a week ago,  and the glow has not yet faded. I may copy some of my poedoodles and sketches to this blog, but otherwise some sketches are here and some words are here. And there's also Harry's lively blog which he kept while we were there.

driving in the rain

I drive south on the motorway with lights on and rain spray everywhere.  I turn the music up loud to compete with the swish and roar.

fast windscreen wipers

metronomes for marching beat

on the radio

Suddenly, nearing Leicester, the sky lightens, and the rain eases. Now I’m happy to stop for a break.

noise, excitement

drives us onward -

can we step aside?

haiku for a traveller

1.3.12

chasing evening light

flying towards the flaming west

a four hour sunset

later changed to:
flying west
following daylight - 
four hour sunset

2.3.12

a sleeper wakes
body clock says half past eight
real time three thirty


3.3.12

here rain and grey skies
on Facebook sunshine

cup of tea please!

weekend ritual

walk, piano lesson

croissant and tiny toy

late afternoon sun

kids run, scoot and swing

we chat and shiver

waiting for dinner

email notification

of bright meteor

Travel by train

. . . and are Northerners really more talkative with strangers?. . . or are my preconceptions showing?


I travelled from Southampton to London without chatting - my fault to some extent, nose in book, sitting in those 'bus seats where you only see people's backs! 


I took the tube and managed to avoid eye contact in the regulation manner. Why doesn't Waterloo station display an obvious tube map?  If it had, I could possibly have caught a train an hour earlier, but no matter,  I wasn't in a rush this time.


Later, waiting at St Pancras, I was seated on that metal tube in the upstairs area. Why doesn't Saint Pancras have enough seats? Walking by, just off the train from Derbyshire were a couple who are friends of my brother and his wife. 


On the train heading north, lots of smiles - and towards the end of the journey, the very friendly trolley man (from Nottingham area) chatted to the family at the table opposite me, asking where they were from - Switzerland.
Ah ha, so that's why I thought they were speaking German, but couldn't understand it!  So I tried my rusty German out! 

Speed cameras

While I'm in my safe motoring, and 'the motorist is not a victim' rant mode, I'll post a copy of the summary of an Independent article today. The black type below is reprinted from the article. My comments appear in blue.


So are speed cameras the answer?

Yes...
* Studies have shown that a reduction in the speed limit to 20mph in built-up areas causes a 60 per cent fall in accidents
* Evidence from Swindon showed a 30 per cent reduction in the numbers of people killed or injured since cameras were installed
* At 10 of the sites in Swindon where cameras were introduced, no road accident deaths have been recorded

All three look like factual evidence to me. The most relevant is the second one.

No...
* Critics say it's not speed that kills but tiredness and careless driving. It's this that should be targeted with safer driving campaigns - yes, I can see that working. Not. Do I hear cries of 'Nanny State'? Don't individuals always know best? Especially when travelling in a metal box.
* Speed cameras are being used as an easy way for the authorities to bump up their revenues, antagonising the public - as several people have said, you pay the voluntary tax if you decide to speed. Commit a crime, pay the fine. Your choice.
* Cameras are counter-productive in creating a tendency for drivers to break the speed limit when they are not around - surely only those who believe they have a divine right to speed.

Motoring costs have dropped 18% since 1988

A report by the motorists' organisation, the RAC, shows that in real terms motoring costs have fallen by 18% since 1988. Read the full report here . (I haven't yet.)

Cars cost less to buy, and less to maintain, and often do more miles per gallon, though the price of fuel has risen by 210%.

A third of motorists said they went on shorter journeys than they did 20 years ago, but 9% of drivers said they never walked anywhere.


So, why not stop whinging, folks? Well, 60% of those interviewed (a sample of 1,116 people) said they thought the biggest change over the last 20 years was a RISE in costs. It seems that the costs apart from petrol and road tax are not as clearly seen by drivers, and of course these vary according to the individual car.


A little later in the day, this article has vanished from the front page - no link to it from 2p fuel duty dropped.

Rosie Swale-Pope

Rosie has run around the world, including Russia, Canada, and the US and should arrive home in Tenby, Wales in late August. On June 18th, she landed in Scrabster, Scotland, to start the final stretch.

She started the run in 2003, when she was 57, to raise money and awareness about prostate cancer, after her husband's death from the disease. She has long been an adventurer, and has many sailing achievements to her credit.

I don't often do hero-worship but I think she is a remarkable role-model to all women, and to older ones in particular. I shall think of her next time I have doubts about trying something new or scary.

From Florence to Rutland Water

Last night, we watched some of the camcorder shots from Florence - a lot of them taken by Harry while we were wandering around the streets in the evenings. The 'old tart' put on a pretty good show. Plenty of street entertainment - from a bizarre act (hypnotism?) involving audience members behaving strangely, accompanied by the crowd's rhythmic chanting and clapping, to music from a brass group, and more from a solo classical guitarist.

This morning, the sight of the sun after three grey and wet days had us out at Rutland Water, roller-blading by nine o'clock. Esther, who was here for the weekend, took the opportunity to fit in a run. Back home for coffee and breakfast at 11.

A place, not a person

The old tart

She hasn’t changed her knickers
since the glory days. She’s locked her finery
away in display cabinets,
but her everyday wear is shabby and worn.
Her make up artist hasn’t changed since the '70s
and the cracks are showing.
Old habits live on.
Her grubby palm stretches out for pennies
and snaps them tight into her fist.
Yet as night falls and she is backlit by a softer glow
her old magic returns to draw the crowds.

An explanation:
It's Florence - no, not Nightingale, the city.
The display cabinets are the museums and art galleries, which are brilliant.
The make-up is the shabby appearance of some of the frontages and public spaces - even parts of the well-known ones. It didn't help that there was constant dust from building work, I suppose. The reference to the seventies is something quite unconnected - I've been watching a DVD of the 1976 TV adaptation of I Claudius and was thinking of the make up worn by Sian Phillips as Livia.
The grasping for money is a combination of the expense (perceived by me and of course with the exchange rate so poor), and the (immigrant?) beggars in public places. Even the car hire had an extra charge for being in a historical area.
Old habits die hard - well, I've recently read some bits about European history, and so much seemed to be about the money and power.
Yet at night, with less traffic, and softer lighting the place is magical to walk around in spite of all this.

And I'm still not sure the whole thing isn't sexist, but with a name like Flo' ...

Siena in the rain

Perhaps the least enjoyable day of our holiday. But still, the less successful visits are often more fun to write about. This poem is evolving daily.

Siena sotto la pioggia

(I hope the Italian is correct - it's supposed to be a silly dig at TS Eliot's use of other languages, just to show I'm not a monoglot.)

The guidebook shows
sunlit postcard views
the campo from the torre,the palio.Twelve horses career around the sloping square
for glory and honour,
Flags blazing gold and red on black,

sharp shadow shapes.

Today

we park.
Five escalators
clatter and clank

us up to steep streets,
narrow
cobbled and
gleaming dank

tall buildings
huddle

to hold the sun at bay
although
today

why bother?

The campo
reflects the palace tower
in hints of light and shade.

Umbrellas sprout,
generous fungi
bright, determined, cheerful
despite the clinging drizzle.

They wait in lines
or play a game of dodge
along the streets.

Washing at high windows
so picturesque
above the tourist throngs
so wet.

The duomo's marble is fresh washed,
its glorious gilded frontage,
backed by a crane.
They are everywhere
in Tuscany this April.

A covered market place,
shelters crowds from the drips;
kids run and throw food,
or wait for a bus.

Below a sign
via dei malcontenti
I stop and pull a face.